


Intense large togethercolored instant

by annascathach



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coming of Age, Community: deflower_draco, Dungeon, Erotica, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annascathach/pseuds/annascathach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was Draco's birthday, his coming of age, and he would be inducted in aspecial ceremony later. This, however, was a special gift from the Dark Lord. “Special, and yours only. Make me proud, son,” Lucius had said. Although this was not how Draco had imagined things, the potion he had drunk was aflame in his blood and he stepped into the prison cell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intense large togethercolored instant

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Intense large togethercolored instant  
> Prompt: #62.  
> Ship(s): Draco/Pansy, mention of Draco/Astoria.  
> Rating: NC-17.  
> Warnings/Contains: smut.  
> Length: 1900 words.  
> Summary: See above.  
> Disclaimer: Anything you might recognise is not mine, it all belongs to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. etc. The poem quoted in the story title and before the beginning was written by e. e. cummings. No copyright infringement intended.  
> A/N: Writing this fic was a lot of fun, I hope you enjoy reading it too! Many thanks to E. for the beta.

**Intense large togethercolored instant ******

_sometimes i am alive because with  
me her alert treelike body sleeps  
which i will feel slowly sharpening  
becoming distinct with love slowly,  
who in my shoulder sinks sweetly teeth  
until we shall attain the Springsmelling  
intense large togethercoloured instant_

_the moment pleasantly frightful_

_when,her mouth suddenly rising,wholly  
begins with mine fiercely to fool  
(and from my thighs which shrug and pant  
a murdering rain leapingly reaches the  
upward singular deepest flower which she  
carries in a gesture of her hips)_

_(e. e. cummings)_

 

This wasn't how he'd imagined things. Draco shuddered.

Things were supposed to be finely regulated, nicely planned. He was supposed to be with his fiancée Astoria Greengrass. His large chambers, on his wedding night. Silky white sheets, showcasing that which he held sacred. Soft lights, soft music, soft touches. He had imagined light caresses, silky hair in his hands as he kissed her. Her lips would have been soft and pliant beneath his, her fingers shyly tangled in his brand-new robes. Or in his hair, slowly trailing down from his scalp, running down his spine.

He had imagined tickling, laughing, tenderness. Draco had seen her lips moan as he contemplated her sweet face while carefully undressing her. Slowly, unbearably slowly. He would have tortured her and him. Would have slowly pushed her dress down, inch by inch, until the ivory of her breasts became visible to his eye. Would have licked down her throat, peppered kisses on her cleavage and finally, finally sucked her nipple into his mouth.

Upon doing this, he had seen her face, white with pleasure, lips the deep red of arousal and her eyes closed tightly. She would have held him to her chest and moaned those delicious moans that made him sigh and squirm and sometimes wish for more than endless dreams, eternal fantasies. She would have undressed him, and he her. Their clothing would have been flung haphazardly across the room. Gloriously naked, his mind revelled in her touch and the feeling of her skin sliding along his as they kissed. She would have been afraid to go further, but he would have shushed her, told her not to worry and touched his fingers to her thighs. Then higher. He would have made her quiver and sigh, Draco was sure, and her desire would have been evident, hot and moist beneath his fingers.

In the end, he would not have waited for her to catch her breath. He would have pulled up on his elbows and sunk into her. And it would have felt tight and hot and wet and perfect. She would have moaned in encouragement, urged him on, held to his arms for support. Draco would have started moving then, first slow, growing more and more earnest. He would have thrust harder and harder, faster, stronger and she would have started to shake and moan harder and he would have thrust and thrust until he felt it coming, until he too started shaking, until he moaned her name aloud. Until _finally finally finally_ his pleasure rose to a frightening height and he climaxed and he floated in clear space for a split second.

Yes, Draco Malfoy had a very elaborate fantasy. He was a virgin and a gentleman, and quite proud of those facts.

Standing in a prison cell in Malfoy Manor made him question certain things. These things. Draco closed his eyes and surrendered to the flames that were burning inside of him.

His father had shoved him in. Lucius Malfoy had told him, in no uncertain terms: “You're a man now, Draco. It's your birthday, and this is your present, freely given. Make good use of it.”

It was Draco's birthday, his coming of age, and he would be inducted in a special ceremony afterwards. This, however, was a special gift from the Dark Lord. “Special, and yours only. Make me proud, son,” Lucius had said.

Before leaving him, his father had grinned, that lewd smile of his that made Draco shudder and want to vomit. That lewd smile his father usually directed at his mother, and sometimes, when he thought nobody was looking, at Aunt Bella. Lucius had clapped his son on the shoulder, opened the door for him and handed him a vial of potion. Without hesitation, Draco had drunk the potion. He had felt it running down his throat like liquid fire, blazing and burning its way through his intestines.

When he had looked questioningly at his father, the older man had simply nodded, adding: “She has been granted the same favour. Don't you worry, she will be willing.”

Draco had stepped through the narrow door, not knowing what to expect. Inside the wet and cold cell, he shuddered with fear and anticipation. Then he saw her. Long brown hair, frail body, her eyes staring into his. She licked her lips and looked up at him. Wanting in her eyes, Pansy Parkinson looked up at him.

Pansy Parkinson. Naked. In a prison cell in Malfoy Manor. Right before his eyes, naked and looking up at him, eyes filled with lust. He'd never have imagined seeing her naked one day. At one point, her parents might have wanted them to marry, but the Parkinson's lack of fortune had quickly cast away their illusions, and Draco had been betrothed to Astoria Greengrass at the tender age of fourteen. Pansy didn't particularly like Draco, as far as he knew – or maybe he was wrong entirely. Her wanton look spoke louder than words. And what to do now, he wondered, with this naked girl, in this dungeon cell.

Naked girl. He fully realised what that meant when his eyes left her face. Languidly inspecting every visible inch of her body, he saw her breasts, her waist, the swell of her hips, the shadows between her crossed legs. Her thighs, her ankles, her dainty feet. He swallowed. Those breasts. He was unsure again, unsure what this gift held in store for him.

The fire in his veins told him what to do. There was no uncertainty in his step any longer when he walked towards her, grabbing her arms and raising her from the narrow cot that passed for her bed. He held on to her arms. His grip was firm, firm enough to leave red spots where his fingers were.

She clung to him, almost unmoving in his arms, looking into his eyes. Pansy crushed her lips to his, and the flames in his belly felt like Fiendfyre, hot and unrelenting. Their kiss was desperate, tongues tangling, mouths fusing together as their teeth chased the other's lips. Draco held to her back tightly, cradling her neck in one hand and shuddering at the coldness of her nails dragging down his spine. He almost choked with the intensity of it all.

One half-conscious thought and he was as naked as she was. _Merlin_ , her skin was burning against his in the cold dungeon air. Positively burning, scorching hot against his fingertips. He carelessly moved them, bending her back over the bed without breaking their kiss. Their lips danced their strange dance, their strange routine of tongues fiercely moving around.

She gasped, one single word: “Draco.”

Pansy's arms tightened around him as he lowered her to the bed. Detaching her hands, he looked down at her. For that moment, flames burning in his belly, she was gorgeous to him. Heat flaring inside his body told him that it was him who had made her lips swell and redden. Him who had tangled her hair. Him who had made her nipples harden. Him who now made her spread her legs. Unmistakeably.

Inexplicably shy, his gaze became hesitant. She was naked. She was on a bed and beckoned him to join her. Shaking away the lingering fear, he decided to follow her lead, to follow the fire inside him and lay down beside her. Still hesitant, he touched his fingers to her breasts. They were soft and firm, and wonderfully large. He had never touched anything quite like Pansy's breasts, and he found that he liked touching them.

First he lightly caressed the underside of her breast, making her smile. Progressively encircling her nipple, he finally dared flick it. When he tugged on her nipple, Pansy started squirming. She pulled at his hair to make their mouths meet in a crushing kiss. 

And there it was again, the fire, his fire, their fire, burning high. He shifted, their bodies now touching completely. Her breasts were crushed to his chest. _Morgana._ She felt so good under his hands. Pansy started moving, her thighs cradling him and making the flames sore higher. He rocked against her, desperately seeking something that he couldn't quite grasp.

She, however, seemed to have a good idea of what he wanted. Kissing him again, she grabbed his cock and touched it to the wetness between her thighs.

“So wet,” he groaned. He was completely at her mercy. Her fingers on his cock - _merciful Merlin,_ they were moving, moving him in the wetness he felt, moving him between her thighs. And _oh_ her moans were the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. They filled the cold dungeons.

Her body, her wetness, her movements, her moans. It was all too much. Draco desperately nipped at her tongue with his teeth, undulating and grinding against her. He couldn't focus, the burning pleasure coursing through his veins told him that this was right, _so right,_ yet her touch wasn't enough. And then, _finally finally finally,_ he felt her guiding his cock down through her folds. Instinct told him to thrust, to thrust deep and fast.

He thrust, and this must be heaven, surely, paradise. Her cunt felt glorious around his cock, gloriously tight, gloriously hot, gloriously all-consuming. It was as if the flames in his belly had concentrated inside her and were now pushing him higher with each single thrust.

“Don't stop,” she hissed, clutching desperately at his back. And he didn't. He moved and moved, thrust after thrust – thrust – thrust – thrust, and it was fire – fire – fire, and Pansy was _there_ , all around him – clenching clenching clenching with every thrust – so hot so tight – in and out and in and out – her breasts were bouncing in their shared rhythm - _Morgana and the Fates_ \- higher and faster – he heard her moaning, like from a distance – felt her fingers digging into his back – felt her cunt around his cock – felt her squeezing him and trembling – and her cunt squeezed him, impossibly tight – and he thrust _harder harder harder_ \- flames licked at him – at his brain – at his cock – he was almost delirious with need, almost desperate for release – thrusting and reaching for it and thrusting -

and then it was like floating. Like seeing things clearly for the first time. And suddenly, things did make sense. Things were all right, in this one frightfully intense, breathtaking moment.


End file.
